


I Can Stand The Rain

by petitfleur (moonfleur)



Series: Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby [5]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Near Future, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 06:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20961869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfleur/pseuds/petitfleur
Summary: Donghyuck starts counting the days. He tells himself he won’t look, that he doesn’t need to look, that it doesn’t matter. But he looks, and he looks, and he looks.





	I Can Stand The Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Written for #00fftober, days 8 & 9.  
I'm sure you all know where the title was taken from, adapted to suit the story better tho :)

Donghyuck starts counting the days. At first, it starts off with a curious quick count off the top of his head, nothing more than a few flicks of his finger tips. But it soon spirals into markings on a calendar, the one that sits on the table by his bed specifically, and a small hidden counter that he’s buried deep within the recesses of his phone’s app database. He tells himself he won’t look, that he doesn’t need to look, that it doesn’t  _ matter _ . But he looks, and he looks, and he looks. He’s looking now, even as music blares in the background and someone calls his name, his eyes remain fixed on the numbers that are barely moving on the screen. A hand grasps his shoulder, firm, and shakes him awake.

“Hey,” the owner of the hand says, in the way someone would speak over a castle of cards. “We’re gonna run it through again.”

He looks up and makes eye contact with the person,  _ Renjun _ his brain supplies, before nodding, broadcast smile plastered on his features. He doesn’t really know what is going on, but his body does and, by some miracle, muscle memory carries him through the rest of practice. But his mind, so fixated on the number lighting up his phone, completely misses the way his members look at him and then look at each other. Words unspoken but understood in the looks they share. He barely registers the arm that slips through his, that guides him all the way back to the dorms because the only thing in his head at the moment is  _ 7 days _ , which he repeats to himself like a mantra until his head hits the pillow and sleep takes him into a few hours of blissful silence.

The rest of the week passes by in a similar way, hazy, like a blanket of fog sits between him and the rest of the world. He goes through the motions, does everything perfectly so that no one else will question him. That doesn’t stop one of the other members from trying their hand at talking to him,  _ or were they talking him through it?  _ But  _ through what? _ He doesn’t know, he can’t remember, the memories of the sights and sounds around him are muffled in his mind, gaussian blur over film. He doesn’t think he can even feel anything more other than the strange changes in pressure. In the safety of his own mind, he readies himself for the storm that’s coming.

When he wakes up on the day the timer ticks down to 0, everything is calm and silent. No one is moving in the dorm and the silence only adds to weird calm that has settled into his bones. Outside of this bubble, his bubble, the storm rages and he sees it in the way people are running to and from the other dorm. He can hear it in the urgency of their voices, the frantic energy as people crash into each other, each trying to do their own to prepare for the storm. He is safe though, safe where he is in the middle of all the chaos, so he chooses to watch instead. 

For the first time in days, maybe weeks, smells assault his senses. He smells the spices in the food that’s being cooked just a few feet from him, smells the febreeze that wafts through the dorm in waves, smells the familiar scents of his members as they walk around him.  _ It’s getting closer _ , he thinks to himself, the storm is finally approaching, closing in on him who is trapped in the middle of it all. He finally feels it, feels the static energy, feels in general, and he doesn’t know what to do with the sensation. The other members must have noticed because he feels, really  _ feels _ , as gentle hands guide him back to the safety of his room. The door shuts out the noise but it can’t shut out the storm, not when it's this close to him, not when the blanket of fog is finally lifting from his awareness and he can  _ see _ again.

He buries himself under the blanket, waiting, bracing himself for the pressure change he knows is coming. So when the door finally opens and the storm crashes around him, all loudness and quiet at the same time, he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even react, at least not until everything closes in on him and suddenly it’s too much. The loud silence that surrounds him, the force of the pressure, everything, it’s suffocating and he can’t  _ breathe _ . He throws the covers off in an attempt to get air into his lungs and feels arms wrap around him almost immediately, grounding him in the middle of the raging storm. He takes a deep breath, breathing in familiarity, barely makes out a choked  _ hyung _ , before his own floodgates open and his dam breaks from the storm’s impact.

“Shhh, it’s okay Hyuckie,” he hears, whispered softly in his ear. “I’m here now.”

He can’t say anything, voice lodged in his throat, sure that he would be drowning in his own tears if those arms didn’t keep him float. He’s being lifted and tucked back into his sheets, but he doesn’t care, only clutches tighter as they settle into the small space, blanket wrapped around them. 

“I missed you,” he finally manages after the storm quietens. “So much.”

“I know,” the other boy whispers, lips forming the words into the crown of his head. “I missed you too.”

Donghyuck says nothing after, doesn’t trust himself to try anymore, but he curls himself closer, burying himself in familiar arms, which tighten even more around him. His fingers clutch onto the other’s shirt like a lifeline, afraid that he would be lost to a raging tempest if he lets go.

They lie for a while in the silence of the aftermath before he hears a soft “let’s go to sleep, Hyuckie” and finally,  _ finally, _ allows himself to relax. He smiles a true smile for the first time in days as he wraps an arm around the other boy. This is a storm he doesn’t need shelter from, in fact, it’s a storm he’ll gladly welcome home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it? Kind of? For reference, this takes place (or is supposed to take place) during the time when Mark is away for SuperM tour/promos.  
Prompts were 'Home' and 'Storm' for days 8 & 9. Kudos and comments give me life ♥  
❆ [twitter](http://twitter.com/moonfleur_)   
❆ [cc](https://curiouscat.me/moonfleur_)


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